"A direction is not enough. Do you have a definite location?"
"It should be close," the vargvir rumbled.
It would be close. A Reeve was eye-catching, always noticed. They were the shield and fist of the Primar. People would noticed if one disappeared.
"Did you want Marses for something? Or should I not ask?"
"We came for you."
Eh?
Did he get in trouble that he didn't know about in the last hour or so?
Pretty sure he didn't.
"Your requests have been fulfilled."
It turned out that Sigram, the male vargvir, had come with confirmation of a berth on the 'Ungoladvar' to Galbrane. Evlene, the female human, had the horses to replace the ones the bandits killed.
It was coincidence that they happened to reach the Library at the same time.
Good timing.
He wouldn't have gone after Marses, if they hadn't been there. He'd assume the older Reeve would have been ordered away.
Krow stored the letter that would give him passage onto the ship. "What does the ship name mean?"
He had no idea how to pronounce it.
"A Song Breaking Through the Surf." Sigram murmured. "It is a reference to a sea-epic."
Evlene smirked. "It's actually a story about two lovers. Separated across seas, their hearts beat as one song, and with the power of love, they save a kingdom from destruction of a massive tidal wave."
"That is the least of the storylines it contains."
"It's really not," she said in a stage-whisper to Krow, who was a little surprised they dropped some of their professional demeanor.
Sigram grunted, frowning at Evlene, who lifted her hands in playful surrender.
Krow smiled at them.
"Thank you for this." He eyed the two horses stabled beside the others. He turned toward the streets, noting that the spirit-snake had started circling. Had it lost the 'scent'?
Feeling eyes on him, he looked to see the two Reeves studying him expectantly. Evlene glanced at the horses.
He tried, "…good horses?"
The unimpressed looks that got, had him laughing sheepishly. "I know next to nothing about horses."
"You requested them," Evlene stated in slight confusion.
"Yes. We rode caravan horses to come here from the Seventh. They were killed by the bandits. I thought I might not have time to buy replacements, so I asked."
"You didn't specify the type of horse?" At Krow's headshake, she sighed. "And here I thought I could see someone with courage enough to request these horses from the Primar."
Krow studied the horses again. They didn't look special. They just looked fiercer than normal. "They can pull wagons, right?"
Evlene burst out in laughter, full-bellied amusement. Sigram snorted, looked at Krow like he was an idiot.
She recovered quickly, with a massive grin on her face. She patted Krow on the shoulder. "They can, don't worry. They're called ironblood horses for a reason."
Her personality reminded him a little of Cenree, really.
"And you don't recognize the name." She giggled briefly. "Don't worry about it. It's likely the Primar chose to give them himself."
Ironblood horse.
Krow hadn't heard. Did he care? It wasn't like he ever was going to choose a horse for a mount.
A ping alerted him to his Map.
"Found him." He brought out paper and quickly sketched out an approximation of the local map and the x that marked where Marses was. "He's some ways below street level?"
Evlene and Sigram leaned over his crude map.
"That's under the Hagerth Club." Evlene said suddenly. "I may know a way."
"Another one of your 'contacts'?" Sigram sighed.
"A familiar one, I assure you."
"Lords above, not Foskervil."
"You read my mind."
Ten minutes later, Krow understood Sigram's reservations. Foskervil was the quintessential shady character.
He was thin as a stick, his limbs looking they could snap in a small gale. His face was shadowed, though the first thing to see was the pointed chin. The rest of his face, what was visible, looked to be as sharp as a dagger. His gaze was cold, and his lips were bloodless and thin.
He greeted Evlene like a long-lost friend, greed immediately lighting up his eyes as he eyed the two Reeves and Krow.
But it appeared he was amenable to showing them an entrance to the sewers for money, which made him safer than those who traded in favors.
"Foskervil…" Evlene eyed the crack in the foundation of a seemingly abandoned house.
The stick-thin vargvir smiled at them, leaned close to Sigram. "An old smuggler's route."
"That means nothing to me." Sigram said stiffly.
"Fah, you're no fun. Send your armsmen crawling all over old dust then. Why does no one believe the information they buy from a gentleman of my reputation?"
"Have you considered changing your scent?" Evlene shot at him.
"I hear 'delicate' is a theme popular with gentlemen these days," Krow added.
The shady Foskervil laughed in a single long exhale. "Just for that, you'll have to make your way yourselves."
"We were doing that anyway," Evlene called at his back.
They entered the crack in the foundation, emerging into a sewer tunnel.
After a moment of wary looking around, Sigram took point and Evlene fell into step beside Krow.
"Ah, I forgot." She reached into her satchel. "Here."
Krow blinked, took the package and gingerly flipped off the oilcloth.
His head jerked up to look at her, astonished. Then he grinned.
It was his main revolver.
"It was easier, as it was spirit-bound." She shrugged.
"Are you a ghost-caller too?"
"A friend is."
Krow had also been planning to look for the gun using one of his ghost-scouts. Dealing with wherever and whoever had picked it up, he expected to be a pain.
He checked it over; no problems, just small scratches along the barrel. He eyed them quizzically. It looked like someone took a saw to it? The damage was superficial. It could wait until he found a proper smith to do a recheck.
He cracked open the cylinder.
It was empty.
He swapped it for full darkspears. Krow twirled the gun once and holstered it, twitching his coat hem over it, as usual.
He hadn't realized he felt a little unbalanced without the gun at his side.
It was his trusty first revolver, after all.
It had been with this avatar since the beginning.
He drew the second from the small of his back, swapped out the cylinder to the usual shieldbursts it held.
Krow had been planning to buy better bullets. He'd been using darkspears and shieldbursts since before Lvl 10. They'd been running out faster since he gained Lvl 19, unable to keep up with three-serpens monsters.
He checked over the second gun too, then returned it to the back holster.
Feeling a little more content with the day, he thanked Evlene profusely.
What was there to be worried about?
The two Reeves with him were at least twenty levels higher than Krow. Tvarglad mostly fielded players under Lvl 30.
He could just stroll leisurely along the sewers.
They were very well-developed sewers: large, airy, full of columns and interesting scenery. In some places, there were even murals.
Krow could smell a hint of salty sea even this far from the coast.
These were common sewers in Tvarglad?
They were even more elaborate than the draculkar sewers, and that was saying something.
His lips twitched wryly as a memory of wading through muck that sucked your boots off and trying to scrub off the smell of rotting waste that lingered for weeks floated across his mind. He pushed it away.
The sewers made by people who had less sensitive noses were definitely not like these.
Sigram, walking ahead, made a gesture. Then he lifted three fingers.
Evlene waved a hand, stopping Krow.
So…three people?
Krow drew both guns, was about to offer help when Sigram's figure was briefly limned by the shadow of a wolf and he shot around the corner.
Ah, right. They didn't need his help.
Oh well, he'd enjoy the life of a pampered protectee for once.
He still kept the revolvers out though.
Evlene gestured them forward.
Two vargvir were on the floor, unconscious, and the third was hanging from Sigram's grip.
"I need names," Sigram growled.
"I don't know anything," squeaked the smaller vargvir. "You think she tells someone like me, like us, anything? We just run errands."
"You may know more than you think. Who is this she?"
"I don't know her name. She's just the Lady."
Sigram scoffed. He put the vargvir on his feet, and the guy crumpled into a heap. "I have a few last—"
"Sigram, the lever!"
Evlene's warning was too late. The thief had rolled over to the wall and kicked down the lever, even as Sigram, reacting, reached.
Water rushed out of opened sluices that were larger than Krow, barely giving them time to draw in a breath before they were swamped.
The water punched like a two-ton fist.
Krow struggled to hold the grappling hooks he'd quickly snapped out of the Inventory and dug into the stone wall beside him.
[You are underwater.]
[0:00:00:29:44]
Just thirty seconds?!
Gah.
It looked so easy to move underwater in films, swim in whitewater rapids.
Lie.
Not even a minute and his lungs started burning, his HP started ticking down.
Krow used the grapplehook like a climbing pick and hauled himself upward, counting each time he buried a hook in the cracks of the pretty mural.
On the fifth, his head broke the surface of the water. He gasped deeply.
Something grabbed the back of his coat. He struggled.
"It's me."
